


The Royal Visit

by nomave



Category: Blackadder, due South
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomave/pseuds/nomave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...in  which Fraser meets a man called Blackadder and Turnbull receives a kick up the backside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Royal Visit

Ray Vecchio wandered into the office of his friend, Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP. He found the Mountie anxiously polishing the buttons on his dress uniform, whilst simultaneously trying to read through a sheaf of notes on his desk.   
“What gives, Benny?” he asked.  
“I have to attend a meeting regarding the impending visit of the Queen. The Royal Equerry is here a day earlier than expected, and Inspector Thatcher is still in Ottawa attending a training course. I’m trying to review all the arrangements for the dinner Her Majesty will attend here at the Consulate.”   
“Oh yeah – they’ve cancelled everyone’s leave for her visit,” Ray snorted, “Like having every police officer in Chicago on duty is going to help security. It’s all just a show to look like we’re taking it seriously.”  
Fraser paused in his reading and cleaning, “You mean you aren’t taking it seriously?” he asked earnestly, frowning at the concept.  
Ray saw that his friend was deadly serious, “Er, yeah, sure, but they don’t really need all the detective ranks lining the route of her motorcade as well. Besides, who’s a threat to her here? Like anyone cares anyway.”  
“Some people care, Ray. Her Majesty is coming to Chicago to dedicate a memorial to....oh dear!” In his haste to pick a fleck of wolf hair off his uniform Fraser had brushed his papers onto the floor.  
Ray bent and gathered up the fallen report. He glanced at the top page and chuckled, “This is the guy you’re meeting with?”  
“Yes,” Fraser sounded puzzled.  
“And this is his name? His real name?” Ray asked gleefully.  
“Yes.”  
Ray laughed, “The English are weird! Major Sir Edmund Blackadder – that’s hilarious.”  
Fraser frowned, “Really, Ray, as with all surnames, it has very basic origins. In this case it comes from a family whose lands were on the River Adder, in Berwickshire. The old English word ‘blaec’ means black, or in this context possibly deep, hence...”  
“Benny...”  
“Yes.”  
“It’s a funny name.”  
Fraser hesitated, “Okay,” he finally answered, clearly not understanding.   
At that moment the door to the office slammed open and a flustered Turnbull entered, “He’s here!” he announced, “The Queen’s Equerry - he’s here! Oh, this is such an honour!”  
“Thank you Turnbull. Please show Major Blackadder into the Conference Room and ask if he would like any refreshments.”  
“Yes, Sir. Will there be anything else, Sir?”  
“Yes. Please phone through to the Deputy Consul and let him know the meeting is about to begin.”  
“Right you are, Sir!” Turnbull withdrew, and Fraser took his notes back from Ray. He paused, looked at the detective, and seemed about to ask a question.  
Before he could do so, Ray answered, “Yes Fraser, your lanyard is straight.”  
“Right...Good.” Fraser took a deep breath.  
“I don’t know what you’re nervous about, Benny. You helped prepare those arrangements yourself, and I know you would have done it perfectly.”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“Yes! Anyway, I’m going to come along to this meeting. I don’t want to miss seeing someone with a name like that!”  
“Oh, Ray – I don’t know...”  
“I’m representing the Chicago PD , who are, after all, responsible for security during the Queen’s visit to our lovely city! Come on.”  
Fraser realised he wasn’t going to win this argument. He followed Ray out of the door, and downstairs to the conference room.  
They entered in time to see Turnbull standing next to a tall thin man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed moustache, wearing an army uniform. The man had an expression on his face that could only be likened to someone looking at something disgusting. Turnbull, in the meantime, was blithering about tea,  
“I can make you a lovely cup of Earl Grey, Sir, or if you prefer I think I can rustle up some Lapsang Souchong, or maybe Darjeeling...”  
The man interrupted in a contemptuous tone, “Yes, thank you Constable, I think I can do without the full index of types of tea leaf. Common garden tea with milk will be perfectly adequate.”  
“Yes, Sir – will that be full fat milk or...”  
Fraser intervened before murder could be committed, “Thank you, Turnbull. Whatever is in the kitchen will be fine.”  
“Yes, Sir.” Turnbull backed out of the room, bowing.  
“He’s not related to anyone called Baldrick, by any chance?” Blackadder asked thoughtfully.  
“Um, no, I don’t believe so,” Fraser responded, baffled.  
“Right, shall we get on with it? Preferably before I die of old age.”  
“Yes, of course.”  
Ray glanced at Fraser, who was looking increasingly agitated at the royal equerry’s abrasive personality. They were saved by the entrance of the Deputy Consul, a man who Ray recognised only as one of the consular officials who were not part of the RCMP liaison staff, but who took care of regular Consulate business. He brushed past Fraser and went straight up to the visitor,  
“Sir Edmund! Always a pleasure!”  
“Yes,” the man answered, “I was just saying to myself the other day, what I really need is to attend a meeting with an officious sycophant and a man who dresses as a pillar box,” Blackadder cast a glance in Fraser’s direction. The Mountie looked hurt.  
“Maybe we should sit down,” Fraser offered.  
“Brilliant idea. I can’t think why nobody has ever thought of that before.”  
They took their seats around the table. Ray hung back and took a chair at the back of the room, from where he could observe. He wondered why people always said the British were polite – Blackadder certainly wasn’t showing any sign of that particular trait. Maybe they had given all their politeness to the Canadians.  
“Right,” Blackadder began, “I’ve looked over the plans for the dinner, and they’re adequate I suppose. You seem to have observed all the guidelines we issued. There is the question of the seating though...”  
The meeting proceeded. Ray became simultaneously bored and fascinated with the amount of protocol that went into who sat next to who, and the requirements of the royal party with regard to food. The tedium was briefly relieved by the entrance of Turnbull, bearing a silver tray containing china cups, milk jug and teapot. The crockery was rattling as Turnbull’s hands were shaking.   
“Oh god, it’s the other traffic light,” Blackadder commented.  
Turnbull managed to put the tray on the table without dropping anything. Fraser hastily indicated that they would pour their own tea, before Turnbull could offer. Looking crestfallen, the Constable turned, managed to trip over the edge of a rug, and began to overbalance. Blackadder took the opportunity to cross one leg over the other, in the process connecting his boot with Turnbull’s backside. Turnbull fell flat, face down on the floor. Blackadder looked smug. Fraser looked appalled.  
Ray was startled when his friend rose to his feet.  
“Excuse me, Sir,” Fraser began, “but I think you should apologise to Constable Turnbull.”  
Blackadder turned a snide glare on Fraser, “Oh please, the man’s clearly an imbecile.”  
“Regardless of your opinion, Sir, he does not deserve to be kicked. Your behaviour is inappropriate.” Fraser walked around the table, and helped Turnbull to his feet, then turned back to Blackadder, “I repeat, I would like you to apologise to Constable Turnbull.”  
“Or what, you’ll set a beaver on me?”  
“I will of course be filing an official complaint with the Royal Protocol Office...”  
While Fraser was speaking, Ray moved quietly to the door and quickly went up to Fraser’s office. He returned to find the confrontation still in progress.   
“Hey – Blacky!” Ray called.  
Blackadder turned his displeasure on Ray, “What?”  
“He won’t be setting a beaver on you, but he might set something else on you, say...a wolf.” Ray opened the door and let Diefenbaker into the room. The half-wolf immediately sensed the tension, and let out a small growl in the direction of the Equerry.   
Blackadder visibly drew back, “Yes, well, maybe I could have been slightly more...I apologise to you of course, Constable. Sorry for any misunderstanding over my little joke...” he coughed self-consciously, and looked back at his papers, “Now, about the wine you’ve chosen...”  
Fraser dismissed Turnbull and returned to his seat. The Deputy Consul looked bemused. Diefenbaker settled where he could keep an eye on Blackadder, and Ray returned to his post in the background.  
The meeting finished fairly quickly after that. Fraser showed Blackadder out of the Consulate and held the door of his car open for him. The Equerry gave the Mountie a hard look before he got into his vehicle, “Your friend came up with a very cunning plan there, Constable. I congratulate you on your choice of acquaintance.”  
“Thank you, Sir. He has frequently been of considerably assistance to me.”  
“Yes, well, I’ll be in touch again about the dinner.” With that Blackadder folded his long frame into the car.   
Fraser shut the door, and stepped back. Ray came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder, “Glad you stood up for yourself there, Benny. Though that pompous idiot was right about one thing.”  
“What’s that, Ray?”  
“Turnbull is an imbecile.”  
Fraser opened his mouth to speak but decide there was nothing he could say.  
“So,” Ray asked, “How do I get to come to this dinner?” He laughed at the expression on Fraser’s face.

THE END


End file.
